


a thinking piece

by tigerbox



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 23:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12543696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbox/pseuds/tigerbox
Summary: sungmin and kangin meet up after years pass by. sungmin reflects on what he can remember of the past with kangin- which isn't much, turns out.





	a thinking piece

He’s always been bad at remembering dates until he gets married. His wife sort of engrained it into him to remember, remember day one hundred of dating, their six month anniversary, picking 12-13-14 as the day they swore their vows to each other in holy matrimony, because it’d be special - and also entirely super easy to never forget. Sungmin doesn’t know if it is a “ _female_ ” thing to be so mindful and considerate of dates, but he supposes having a spouse has changed him for the better.

He doesn't remember the day he’d last seen him, it had been a good while, three years maybe? If the media knew just how long it’d been, they’d probably roast them in the spitfires of humility - members of the same group for twelve years but they didn’t even call each other up on their birthdays, that kind of thing. He’s sitting at the bar already, waiting, foot perched up on the stool, a playful demeanor contrasting his older face.

Sungmin feels the irony of meeting at a bar, meeting up for drinks with someone who has a troubled past with alcohol, the root of all evils for his delinquency, but Kangin picks this place as their meeting ground, and Sungmin after all these years wasn’t the type to disagree.

It’s there, the second Kangin recognizes him within the crowd, a slight shuffle to get off the stool, a warm hug with those hands patting his back, always too strong and that laugh - that husky, contagious bear-like laugh, the one that drove Sungmin crazy in those long van rides home because it’d always be on continuous play. And yet Sungmin would always laugh back, even now, catching himself breaking into a nervous prat of giggling, taking the stool besides Kangin.

“A round of soju for my buddy,” Kangin beckons the bartender like they were very old friends, and Sungmin wonders how many times Kangin comes here exactly, but Kangin always had that thing where he could read people’s thoughts before they could say it themselves, “Nice place, huh? It was the first place that popped up between my place and yours with the best reviews.”

Kangin takes an exaggerated look around, maybe to fill the silence that was already brewing, because Sungmin was never good at conversations. But Sungmin doesn’t bother looking around, most of his attention caught up on the great observation of the fact that Kangin is right there in the flesh before him, boyish looks illuminating on his slightly aging face. He’s gained a lot more weight since the last time Sungmin had seen him in person, cheeks like a pufferfish, stomach wide and paunchy, and yet he carries himself well, not showing any insecurities up front.

Kangin turns to him finally, giving Sungmin a cautious look himself, taking in how he appears, what marriage has done to him, waits for Sungmin to say something back. And finally, because Sungmin can’t think of much to say, he starts the conversation.

“It’s been so long, Ming.” Ming, the fond nickname Kangin adorned him years ago, when everyone kept rubbing it into their faces how awkward they had become and Kangin was adamant about denying it even though it was true, running amok and telling everyone that his nickname for Sungmin was Ming, and people only gave nicknames to people they liked, therefore he must like Sungmin by default.

Sungmin smiles to himself, and then stops because he can’t remember what he used to call Kangin back then. He can’t even remember what Kangin’s surname or real name was. _Fuck._

“I just - I just wanted to say sorry, you know. For not being there for your wedding and all that - I’ve been such a shitty person for most of my adult life and -" Kangin’s favorite bartender returns with a platter of soju shots and Kangin indulges first, knocking back a few while Sungmin looks on, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sungmin replies. Was it fine? Honestly, his wedding was such a blur with the planning, and then the reveal, the backlash with the fans, the company and even other opposing members, he can barely remember who went. This time, Sungmin knocks back a shot, upset at his lack of will to hold onto any memories of his past, good or bad.

“Marriage fucks you up,” he accidentally says out loud. Kangin lets out that familiar, hearty chuckle. He slaps a hand on Sungmin’s knee, letting his hand linger too long.

“Still, it looks good on you.” he drags his hand on the bones of Sungmin’s kneecap before retracting it, “You’ve gained some weight in the face I see.”

Now it’s Sungmin’s turn to laugh, because it’d be too mean to retort the same type of comment back to Kangin and they both know it. Instead, they order some more drinks - they’d always been the best drinkers out of the group after Kyuhyun, that vindictive scrawny maknae who could outdrink them all.

“Is this even a good idea?” Sungmin ponders absentmindedly after a wave of particularly nasty tequila rounds. Kangin shrugs his shoulders, downing another one. It doesn’t really matter, Sungmin supposes, because they were going to continue anyway, and their friendship feels very reminiscent of how it used to be - less talking, more doing. It’d be weird if they met up and talked about something unsubstantial, like the economy, or cars, or how the other members were holding up. Ha. Like either of them would know.

“I saw Heechul a couple of months ago,” Kangin mentions, doing that thing where he could read Sungmin’s mind again, “He looked well. Healthy.”

“Good,” Sungmin reflects. “Good.”

Someone in the bar orders shots for everyone, and they both accept in a manly archetype of knowing their roles. A baseball game is on, and everyone in the bar turns their attention to the television, getting rowdier by the minute. Sungmin faintly remembers things from the past in a blurry recollection - the times Kangin would come back to the dorm, completely drunk out of his mind, his bad temper, the way his moods would turn the months he was trying to cut back, images of him on the news again, hitting a light pole, the solemn atmosphere the dorm would always be in, heavy on those unspoken subjects. Maybe he’d expected too much to change in the past few years, expected Kangin to be deep in reflection, devoted to his religion and the fine arts, giving back to his community with volunteerism, not this - not howling at the screen anytime someone would get close to hitting a homerun, never quite getting there. And then Sungmin thinks about that some more, confusing himself for even having expectations about this; a simple meet up.

Kangin throws an arm around him, because someone on screen from the team he’s decided to root for scores, and then he’s ruffling Sungmin’s hair, putting him in an aggressive chokehold, smiling and bellowing, and planting a wet one on Sungmin’s cheek, almost excessively slobbery. But Sungmin’s smiling besides himself - because despite all the alcoholic beverages and peanut smacking, Kangin smells just like how he used to. Like grapefruit and baby powder, nice and clean. He’d always be the first one to jump into the shower after their grueling schedules, always been the one to promote cleanliness and orderliness in the dormitory - well on the days Leeteuk gave up. Maybe he’s smiling a little too much with too much teeth because Kangin puts his arm down self-consciously away from Sungmin.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just missed you is all.”

The moment ends before Kangin can even say anything back because the television cuts to commercials, and Super Junior is on screen - the rest of Super Junior left that is - promoting their new album on a teaser for some show that Kangin and Sungmin would never likely get invited on again, talking about their hardships, talking about doing better than expected despite everything and Sungmin feels his stomach do a somersault.

It’s guilt, he surmises. He looks over, and Kangin is watching the television too, face writhe with the same melancholy. They don’t say anything about it outloud. Maybe this was for the better, at least they could be outcasts together, he didn’t have to suffer alone. Kangin takes his hand with his much bigger, almost fatty one, warm to the touch, affectionately bringing it to his chest in a weird sort of comfort. Sungmin’s eyes dance to where their hands sit on Kangin’s chest, a sparkle of silver glimmering from his wedding ring. Kangin has selected to hold on to his left hand, his wedding band. Ah, that’s right, Sungmin reminds himself belatedly - he’s not alone. He’s married. He has a wife to go home to - it’s Kangin who is not so lucky.

“You can stay over at my place tonight,” Sungmin offers. “It’s closer. I’ll drop you off in the morning.”

“I picked a place halfway between our places, remember?” Kangin counters back. Sungmin doesn’t remember - he never remembers. “I’ll just take a taxi back home.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The conversation is over. Sungmin doesn’t mean to end it with the offer but it’s done and now, neither of them have anything left to say. Kangin finally lets go of Sungmin’s hand and it drops to his side, feeling stark and clammy without the embrace to get it by.

It’s supposed to be like this, Sungmin convinces himself as he watches Kangin safely duck his head inside a yellow taxi. He writes down the taxi plate number like they used to, warning the taxi driver to make sure he gets home with a nicely worded threat, asking Kangin to send him a text for when he does. Kangin just nods, eyes loosely closing, already falling asleep from having a couple too many drinks, Sungmin’s soft goodbye a mere afterthought.

Sungmin watches Kangin’s face before he shuts the taxi door shut, watching it drive off, wondering when the next time would be before he’d see that face again. Would it look any different? Any more swollen, or perhaps less weight to it? Would Kangin have aging white hairs the next time they meet, much like the ones creeping at the back of Sungmin’s crown that his wife insisted on dyeing biweekly? He could be the one to text him first, Sungmin proposes. Be the one that reaches out, extends the friendship beyond an apologetic outing, an excuse for a regretful reunion. He could be the one to talk more next time, talk more about his new fledgling career as a musical actor, share his experiences on stage; Kangin would love to hear about that, he’s sure.

But Sungmin does a peculiar thing before he gets to his car, looking down at his phone, pulling up Kangin’s contact on it, blanking at sending a SNS. Instead, he deletes the number, deletes Kim Youngwoon from his address book, opening the door to his modest BMW, on his way back home to his wife. Kangin was nothing more than a memory from his past, he decides.

It’d probably be better that way.

**Author's Note:**

> i miss suju sfm this cb has gotten me feeling all types of things :(((


End file.
